The air inside the Gold Star compound is heavy with dust and mildew, the silence fractured only by the squeak of boots and the occasional creak of metal. You move as a unit - Prentiss at point, JJ and Luke clearing the wings, Rossi anchoring the rear. Voit walks just behind you, shackled, his every step deliberate, like he’s cataloguing the geometry of the space.

Garcia’s voice buzzes in your earpiece: “Thermal scan shows multiple heat clusters up ahead - could be bodies, could be decoys. Be careful.”

Then it happens.

The blast rips through the structure, white-hot and deafening. The shockwave slams into you, hurling you against the concrete. For a split second, you can’t breathe - the world a ringing void of fire and dust. When you blink, the team is gone, swallowed by collapsing walls and smoke.

Pain screams in your side. Shrapnel. Your arm is slick with blood. Worse, when you try to move, your legs don’t respond - pinned under a slab of rubble. Panic claws at your chest.

A shadow cuts through the haze - Voit. Shackled, coughing, eyes darting. He spots you trapped and crouches beside you. His usual smirk is gone, but his tone carries that cutting edge you know too well.

“Well,” he says, “this is awkward. I thought you were supposed to be the one saving me.”

You glare at him through the haze. “Go ahead. Leave me. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Voit tilts his head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Tempting. But then again, what’s the fun in outsmarting the BAU if my favorite agent bleeds out under a rock?”

Before you can snap back, he braces himself against the slab pinning your legs. The cuffs clink against concrete as he grips it, testing the weight. “Of course, I could just… sit here and watch. Morbid curiosity has its appeal.” He flashes a grin. “But fine. Let’s make this interesting.”

He plants his feet and heaves. Muscles strain, the rubble groans, and after a long moment, the slab shifts just enough.

“Move it, Agent,” he grits out. “Unless you want me to keep holding this forever. Which, by the way, I can’t.”

You drag yourself free, biting back a cry as your legs scrape against the jagged concrete. Blood stains your pants, but you’re out. You collapse onto your side, gasping.

Voit crouches again, tearing a strip from his undershirt. “Congratulations. You survived your first burial. Doesn’t mean much, though, if you bleed out.” He presses the cloth hard against your arm wound, earning a hiss from you. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“You don’t get to play savior,” you rasp.

He smirks faintly, eyes glinting in the dim firelight. “Savior? Please. I don’t wear a cape. Think of me as damage control. Besides, if you die, who am I supposed to trade witty barbs with? Rossi?”

Somewhere beyond the smoke, muffled shouts cut through - Prentiss calling for JJ, Rossi barking orders. The team is alive. Close. But the wreckage has carved a wall between you.

Voit shifts beside you, still holding pressure on your wound. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he murmurs, almost casual, “but you’re heavier than you look. So if we’re walking out of here, you’d better help me out a little.”

Chains rattle as he braces his shoulder under yours and hauls you upright. His tone softens by a hair, but the sarcasm lingers: “Come on, Agent. Let’s go find your friends before they assume I finally snapped and killed you. That would ruin the surprise.”

--

You push through a narrow corridor, over fallen beams, through smoke so thick it burns your lungs - until the path ends. A wall of collapsed concrete and twisted rebar blocks the way.

Voit steps closer to the barrier, running his fingers along the charred metal as if testing it. He rattles the rebar once and shakes his head. “Nope. That’s not budging. Congratulations, we’ve officially hit the scenic overlook. End of the line.”

You slam your palm against the wall, the pain from your arm flaring sharp. “Damn it.”

Voit crouches against the opposite wall, casual as ever, cuffs dangling as he leans back. “I’ll admit, it’s not the grand escape I pictured."